Part 22 (1/2)

”It is practically settled. The transfers only remain to be signed; you know that, Carnaby,” said Lavendar curtly. He did not wish the vexed question to be raised again at a meal.

”It _was_ practically settled--but it's all off now,” said the boy, looking hard at his grandmother. ”Waller R. A. won't want the place any more. The bloomin' plum tree's gone--cut down. The bargain's off, and old Mrs. Prettyman can stay on in her cottage as long as she likes!”

There was a freezing silence, broken only by the stertorous breathing of Rupert on Miss Smeardon's lap.

”Repeat, please, what you have just said, Carnaby,” said his grandmother with dangerous calmness, ”and speak distinctly.”

”I said that the cottage at Wittisham won't be sold because the plum tree's gone,” repeated Carnaby doggedly. ”It's been cut down.”

”How do you know?”

”I've seen it.” Carnaby raised his eyes. ”I cut it down myself,” he added, ”this morning before daylight.”

”Who put such a thing into your head?” Mrs. de Tracy's words were ice: her glance of suspicion at Robinette, like the cold thrust of steel.

”Who told you to cut the plum tree down?”

”My conscience!” was Carnaby's unexpected reply. He was as red as fire, but his glance did not falter. Mrs. de Tracy rose. Not a muscle of her face had moved.

”Whatever your action has been, Carnaby,” she said with dignity--”whether foolish and disgraceful, or criminal and dangerous, it cannot be discussed here. You will follow me at once to the library, and presently I may send for Mark. A lawyer's advice will probably be necessary,” she added grimly.

Carnaby said not a word. He opened the door for his grandmother and followed her out; but as he pa.s.sed Robinette, he looked at her earnestly, half expecting her applause; for one of the motives in his boyish mind had certainly been to please her--to s.h.i.+ne in her eyes as the doer of bold deeds and to avenge her nurse's wrongs. And all that he had managed was to make her cry!

For Robinette had put her elbows on the table and had covered her eyes with her hands. As he left the room, Carnaby could hear her exclamation:--

”To cut down that tree! That beautiful, beautiful, fruitful thing! O!

how could anyone do it?”

So this was justice; this was all he got for his pains! How unaccountable women were!

Lavendar awaited some time his summons to join Mrs. de Tracy and her grandson in what seemed to him must be a portentous interview enough, trying meanwhile somewhat unsuccessfully to console Mrs. Loring for the destruction of the plum tree, and exchanging with her somewhat awe-struck comments on the scene they had both just witnessed. No summons came, however; but half an hour later, he came across Carnaby alone, and an interview promptly ensued. He wanted to plumb the depth of the boy-mind and to learn exactly what motives had prompted Carnaby to this sudden and startling action in the matter of the plum tree.

”Had you a bad quarter of an hour with your grandmother?” was his first question. Carnaby, he thought, looked subdued, and not much wonder.

The boy hesitated.

”Not so bad as I expected,” was his answer. ”The old lady was wonderfully decent, for her. She gave me a talking to, of course.”

”I should hope so!” interpolated Lavendar drily.

”She jawed away about our poverty,” continued Carnaby. ”She's got that on the brain, as you know. She said that this loss of the money--Waller R. A.'s money, she means, of course--is an awful blow.

She _said_ it was, but it seemed to me--” Carnaby paused, looking extremely puzzled.

”It seemed to you--?” prompted Lavendar encouragingly.

”That she wasn't so awfully cut up, after all,” said Carnaby. ”She seemed putting it on, if you know what I mean.” Lavendar p.r.i.c.ked up his ears. Mrs. de Tracy's intense reluctance to sell the land recurred to him in a flash. To get her consent had been like drawing a tooth, like taking her life-blood drop by drop. Could it be that she was not very sorry after all that the scheme had fallen through, secretly glad, indeed? It was conceivable that this was Mrs. de Tracy's view, but her grandson's motive was still obscure.

”Why did you do it, Carnaby?” Lavendar asked with kindness and gravity both in his voice. ”You have committed a very mischievous action, you know, one that would have borne a harsher name had the transfers been signed and had the plum tree changed hands.”

”But then I shouldn't have done it--you--you juggins, Mark!” cried the boy. ”I've no earthly grudge against Waller R. A. If he'd actually bought the tree, it would have been too late, and his beastly money--”

”You need the money, you know,” remarked Lavendar. ”Remember that, my young friend!”